


Just Right

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Avengers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Self-Harm, Sensory Processing Disorder, baby spider, it's there so we're tagging it because that's how that works, kind of, momma spider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26164711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: If you could see Peter’s lab in Stark Tower or the Avengers Compound, you’d wonder if it’s some mad-scientist abomination or a storage room gone crazy.There are screens upon screens upon screens, little things scattered across almost every available surface, and even ones that aren’t technically available. There are haphazardly balanced books and sheets of metal and overflowing trash cans and more random trinkets scattered around than you can think of. And yet, Peter knows precisely where everything is.Organized chaos. Entropy. There’s some scientific explanation for it.Peter works in a state of 'a lot.' There's a reason for that, and a reason it's a bad idea for him to not have that.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 392





	Just Right

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to anon on tumblr for asking for this one! I had fun with it, I hope it's what you wanted!

**Prompt from anon on tumblr:** hello hi! if ur ever looking for ideas/prompts for spidey stuff i have an idea i've wanted to see but havent really yet: i have a sensory processing disorder so i personally always really connect w spidey when fics talk about him kind of having sensory issues, but they almost always only talk about getting too much sensory input. which is super valid! but a lot of people also have issues w not enough sensory input (i have issues w both! its gotta be a balance). (pt. 1 bc i talk to much)

(pt. 2 bc i talk too much) not having enough sensory input still needs grounding techniques and stuff! i know for me i'll start kind of pulling my hair, scratching too violently, etc. and then my service pup will lick my face to replace harmful sensory cravings with safe ones! i just feel like this might be interesting to see w peter and the avengers trying to give him safer/better sensory input bc it might be cute. totally no pressure though! just thought i'd yell this idea into the void

**Fic starts below the cut :)**

* * *

If you could see Peter’s lab in Stark Tower or the Avengers Compound, you’d wonder if it’s some mad-scientist abomination or a storage room gone crazy.

There are screens upon screens upon screens, little things scattered across almost every available surface, and even ones that aren’t _technically_ available. There are haphazardly balanced books and sheets of metal and overflowing trash cans and more random trinkets scattered around than you can think of. And yet, Peter knows precisely where everything is.

Organized chaos. Entropy. There’s some scientific explanation for it.

Even Tony, the resident doer-of-so-many-things, is baffled when he walks in to see Peter looking at three separate screens, two sets of earbuds—one in each ear—texting as he calls out things for FRIDAY or KAREN or EDITH to help him with. Sometimes he’s talking to all three at once _and_ texting.

“Kid,” Tony says, coming up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder, “you know you gotta pay attention to the stuff you’re doing, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m doing things!”

Cue an impressive rant that even _Tony_ struggles to keep up with in places, all the while Peter’s fingers fly over his keyboard and beat out rhythms on his crossed legs. He looks up at Tony with a bright smile and sometimes, sometimes Tony wonders what goes on in that head of his.

Because if he’s only seeing the little bits that manage to make their way out of the kid’s mouth…god.

Can you blame him for giving Peter a technological playground? Kid lights up better than an arc reactor.

Tony just shakes his head and says: “Kids these days.”

It’s not an uncommon sight to see Peter doing his work with screens scrolling and music blasting over his earbuds. It drives Steve nuts, his mother-hen instincts trying to make sure Peter’s paying _enough_ attention that he won’t hurt himself.

“I know, I know, Pete,” he laughs when Peter glares at him, “I know you can do it, and I trust you, I’m just…”

Peter softens the smallest bit, dropping his project to scurry over and hug Steve. “I know. You worry.”

Steve smirks, running his hand through Peter’s hair. “Gotta make sure you’re in good enough shape for our walk this weekend.”

“Are we gonna do just the anti-homeless benches or are we doing the ramp bars too?”

“We’ll see how fast we can run, hmm?”

“May wants pictures too.”

“Ah yes, for the Baby’s First Act of Civil Disobedience book.”

“ _Steve!_ ”

“Nope, that’s what she called it. She sent me a photo.”

Peter’s fine. And Steve told the truth, he _does_ trust Peter. They all do. Kind of a side effect of the whole superhero gig, you learn to trust your people.

Doesn’t necessarily mean you _understand_ them.

It’s been a long day. They’ve had to do some interview with this-or-that news station about their stances on some issue that is ‘complicated on both sides.’ Long enough that even Steve’s—frankly impressive—public service mask is slipping. Natasha gave up trying to masquerade as someone who cared ages ago, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as _suggested_ something unreasonable. Tony shoos the last of the day’s worries out the door as Clint flops down on the sofa.

“Why,” he groans, “did we have to _do_ that?”

“We’re role models,” Steve recites, even as the slump of his shoulders says ‘no’ in every possible way, “it’s our duty.”

“Yeah well, I never signed up to be a fucking role model.”

“Clearly.”

“If you _dare tell me off for cursing I swear—_ “

Bucky just smacks Steve upside the head before he can say anything.

“Ow!”

“Don’t, Stevie,” Bucky warns, “just don’t.”

“Peter?”

Everyone turns around to look at Sam, crouched in front of Peter. He’s hunched over, almost curled up completely in his chair. His curls bounce back and forth, small muttering sounds coming from under them.

“Peter,” Sam calls again, “Peter, can you look at me?”

Peter’s head raises slowly and Sam’s glad for the training he’s had that keeps him from reacting visually. Peter’s face is a mess, thin red lines, and tense muscles everywhere.

“Hey, Pete,” he says softly, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Peter shuffles. “Need something.”

“Okay. You hungry?”

“No. Need something.” He starts beating out a frantic rhythm on his legs, hard enough to make Sam wince. “Something, I gotta—“

“Where are your earbuds, Peter?”

“Counter.”

Tony tosses them their way without even hesitating. Sam hands them to Peter and almost immediately his hands fly to plug them in, jam the buds into his ears. The room waits, no one willing to move until Peter takes a deep breath and his shoulders slump. After a few seconds, he starts tapping his fingers again, this time much less frenzied. Judging by the pattern, it’s probably to the beat of the song.

“…sorry,” he mutters after a few moments, “sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam says, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You wanna talk about it?”

“Uh…not really, not right now.”

“Okay. Is that a ‘you don’t wanna talk about it at all’ or a ‘you wanna talk about it later?’ Either is fine,” Sam says quickly when Peter shifts nervously, “I just wanna understand a little bit more so we can help.”

“M-maybe later.”

“Sounds good.” Sam stands up. “You want us to leave you alone or are you fine if we hang out?”

“Stay,” Peter says, “please.”

“Sure thing, kid.” Sam makes his way over to the others, shaking his head when a couple of them shoot him curious looks. He glances back over at Peter to see him doing some motion that involves all four of his limbs. It’s…oddly mesmerizing, actually.

“I think he’s doing a music exercise,” Natasha murmurs, “eighth-notes, quarter-notes, half-notes, whole notes.”

Bruce stares at her. “He’s doing what?”

Natasha eases her way onto a stool, her left hand tapping along with Peter’s left. “This hand,” she says, still staring, “taps out every quarter note. One, two, three, four.”

“The right hand,” she says, tapping twice as fast with her right, “does the eighth notes. One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and.”

“Then the feet do…one…three…one…three.” She starts gently tapping her feet in time with Peter’s. “And one…one…one…one…”

Steve just shakes his head slowly. “That’s…complicated.”

“It’s a good way to immerse yourself in music,” Natasha murmurs, smiling slightly, “helped me too.”

“What’s it for?”

“I think our Baby Spider is trying to ground himself.” Natasha gives Peter a smile when he catches her doing the same motions. “And it’s fun.”

His other hand never missing a beat, Peter plucks out one of his earbuds and holds it out to Natasha. She smiles and joins him, sitting by his side and carefully inserting the bud.

“Ooh,” she says softly when she figures out what song it is, “nice choice.”

“Thanks.”

They sit like that as the others bustle around quietly, getting all the interview stuff tucked away and Steve starts the cooking for tonight. He shoos Tony out with a spatula as the genius pouts, quickly picking some innocuous bickering fight that makes Bruce roll his eyes and take the book Thor offers him. Bucky and Sam crash onto a nearby couch, Bucky half-heartedly trying to copy Peter and Natasha for a few moments before laughing and giving up. The dinner passes in relative quiet until Peter sighs and plucks out his earbuds, collapsing onto Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha barely flinches, reaching up to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Hey there, Baby Spider. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, “sorry.”

“Told you,” Sam says easily, “you got nothing to apologize for.”

“No, I…I should’ve told you.”

“Peter,” Steve chides gently, “you’re allowed to not tell us things if you don’t want to.”

“But it’s also important that I _tell_ you things,” Peter says stubbornly. “It’s not fair to you guys if I don’t tell you what bothers me and then you can’t do anything about it or it takes you by surprise.”

“That’s fair, Peter.” Natasha leans her head onto his. “Do you have something you want to tell us, then?”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Peter twists his fingers together, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Actually, uh, do you mind if I…have my earbuds in while I tell you? I’ll—I’ll play it on low volume, I’ll still be able to hear you, I just—“

“Shh,” Natasha hushes, “you don’t need to justify your needs. Go ahead.”

“…thanks.” A few seconds later and Peter visibly relaxes, running his hands through his hair as he sits up. “So, I, uh, I have a sensory processing disorder.”

Most of them nod. He’s not the only one. Bucky and Bruce in particular make some gesture of solidarity.

“But I, um…mine’s weird.”

“Weird how,” Sam asks.

“Uh, you know how most people get overwhelmed from too _much_ sensory input?” When he gets an answering nod, Peter takes a deep breath. “I have, uh, I have the opposite.”

“…yours is triggered by having too _little_ sensory input?”

“Yeah. That’s why I have…all the screens going all the time.”

Tony huffs. “Little bit of an understatement.”

“I-it’s easier for me to think!”

“It’s okay, Pete, I don’t mean anything by it,” Tony says instantly, raising his hands in surrender, “just wanna make sure this old man can still keep up with you, that’s all.”

“He admitted he’s old!” Clint throws his hands up in triumph. “All hail Peter Parker, the One Who Got Tony Stark To Admit He’s Old.”

“Alright, alright,” Thor says when it looks like Tony’s going to throw Steve’s salad across the table at Clint, “that’s enough. Peter,” he says, turning back, “how do we help?”

“H-help?”

“Surely it can’t come as a surprise that we wish to help you,” Thor chuckles, “now come on, out with it.”

“Uh…you did good today,” Peter mumbles, “getting me my earbuds and stuff.”

“Is that what we should do, then?”

“Yeah. Just, um, get me stuff that’ll occupy my sense. Optimal levels of arousal and all that.”

“Does that include physical contact,” Steve asks, “or no?”

“…sometimes? I gotta ask for that though.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Steve smiles and reaches out to squeeze Peter’s hand. “Thank you for telling _us._ I’m proud of you.”

“Ah, jeez,” Peter mumbles, his cheeks flushing, “do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what,” Steve asks like he obviously doesn’t know.

“Like—like _that._ ”

“Steve, you’re such an asshole.”

“I agree with Bucky.”

“Both of you hush or there’ll be no dessert.”

The cry of protest that goes up around the table is enough to make Steve almost fall out of his chair from laughing too hard.

It’s pretty easy after that. They all keep an eye on Peter during functions where they’ve gotta sit still for long periods of time. Often they’ll hide Peter in the back and one of them will reach down, let Peter play with their hands, or sneak some new piece of tech in for him to tinker with. They always keep his earbuds close by and there’s never a problem if Peter needs his earbuds in while he’s at dinner with them or watching a movie.

Then May texts Tony one day when Peter’s scheduled to come over.

_May: Peter’s earbuds broke._

Immediately, Tony sends it out to the others. They’re all on high alert, scouring the floors for where they may have been left, if they’ve got extras Peter can borrow, just for a little, come on Tony, you run a tech empire, _what do you mean you don’t have headphones?_

They’re all so busy looking that they completely miss Peter’s arrival.

Peter’s been floating ever since he got on the bus. Everything feels like it’s happening behind a whine of static. He’s floating in this weird bubble of a fish tank and he can tell there are things beating on the glass outside but he can’t do anything about them. He’s floating and he hates floating. He can’t feel anything. Can’t feel anything.

Something, something, he needs something.

Does he still have a body? Does it still feel? He doesn’t know as he stumbles down hallways and through doors. The walls don’t feel like anything. His hair catches on a catch and it feels. It sends a _zing_ down his spine and he can feel. So he does it again. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

His nail catches on his cheek as he raises his other hand to his hair and there’s a bright flash that shudders his body. It’s warm. He likes warm. He likes to feel. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

He can’t feel his arms. So he moves to his arms. The flare spreads. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

Where else can he feel?

He should be able to feel everywhere, shouldn’t he?

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

He can’t feel his hands but he can tell his hands are making him feel.

It’s stopped being a word now.

Something tangles in his hand, at least he thinks it does. Something tangles in his other hand. They squeeze. _Oh._ Oh, he can feel that. He can feel his hands. He can feel…he can feel a lot.

He hears the gentle whine of metal against metal, feels the hardness of a claw in each of his hands. He blinks and looks up.

DUM-E and U are holding his hands, squeezing them gently the way he does to them. When he murmurs their names, DUM-E lets his hand go, leaning down to start stroking his forehead with his claw. Peter watches, trace the parts of DUM-E’s machinery, mapping it out in his head, grounding himself in the expansions of wires.

It’s better now, it is. U still sits there, patiently squeezing his hand, even as DUM-E whistles and chirps. Peter starts mumbling back that he’s fine, thank you, he’s okay now, can DUM-E move a little to the left, please?

“Peter?”

“Uh, h-hi, Fri,” Peter mumbles, “I, uh, guess you should tell them I’m here.”

“They’re on their way, Peter.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Steve will stumble in first, Natasha hot on his heels. Steve won’t be able to hide his shock at seeing the red lines drawn harshly on Peter’s skin, even as he tries to smile and call out for him. Natasha will look him over and softly ask permission to patch him up a little.

Tony will praise the bots as Sam and Bucky rope Peter into some inane fight that pulls him out of his head. Bruce and Clint will offer him their earbuds as they’re the only two who’ve managed to find some. Thor will offer to carry Peter for a little while.

But for now, Peter will sit here, on the floor of the lab, while the bots kiss his face, and feel.

It’s just right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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